


With Both Hands

by Jain



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: First Time, Incest, M/M, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-02
Updated: 2004-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:33:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/pseuds/Jain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grasping for happiness over the course of a year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Both Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "I Don't Want to Die a Virgin!" challenge.

"You're certain he's all right," Sirius said for the fourth time that hour, and Remus forcibly squelched his annoyance.

"He's about as happy to be living with Lily's family as you might expect, but he's _fine_," he said, also for the fourth time. "Arabella says she thinks he's grown a couple of inches, and he's been getting lots of exercise and fresh air--she sees him out on a walk nearly every day."

"Probably trying to avoid that useless family of his," Sirius said darkly, and then added, "Still, at least he _gets_ to leave the house."

Remus stifled a sigh. "Better that he should be out and about--no matter what the reason--than brooding in his room over what happened eight weeks ago," he said, addressing the more important part of Sirius's complaint. "And you know it's too risky to allow you to visit Harry. For him as well as for you."

"I'm just tired of giving him reassurances and warnings, all the while knowing that he's out _there_ with those _idiots_ and I'm in _here_. What sort of godfather tells his godson to keep his head down, rather than protect the boy himself?"

"It'll be August soon enough," Remus said, in a helpless attempt at conciliation.

"Not for two months, it won't!"

Remus didn't bother trying to argue that it would be less than one. July was a month and August was a month, and what did Sirius care if it were only half of the former and less than a week of the latter before he saw Harry again? "At least it gives us time to prepare for him," he pointed out. "You don't want Harry's bedroom infested with doxies or mokes or glumbumbles when he comes to stay."

"Yeah, all right," Sirius conceded. "The rest of the house can go hang, for all I care, but Harry should be able to get a good night's rest while he's here. Growing boys need that, right?"

"Yes, they do. Though looking back on our days at Hogwarts, I think we spent more nights out of our beds than in them, and you--who were the worst culprit, I might add--still managed to top six feet."

"Harry's James's son, though. He needs all the help he can get."

Remus nodded. He didn't want to bring up infuriating topics like neglect and childhood malnutrition, but he acknowledged to himself that Sirius was probably more correct than he realized.

"I just still can't believe that I'm back in this bloody house!" Sirius said abruptly.

"It is rather a comedown from the Caribbean," he agreed. "No warm, sunny beaches, no exotic plantlife--with the exception of that carnivorous hydrangea we found in the basement--and a regrettable lack of...company."

"I've more than enough of the last now that you're here and the Weasleys've moved in," Sirius said, grinning finally. "Unless you were referring to company of a more romantic sort?"

"Well, yes."

Sirius shrugged. "That part's all right. It's not as though I know what I'm missing, after all."

There was a long pause as Remus tried to parse that sentence to mean something other than... "You're a _virgin?!_"

Sirius looked at him in surprise, and then scowled. "I was in _prison_ for twelve years. Who do you expect me to have had sex with? A d-dementor?"

Remus ignored the slight waver in his voice. The fact that Sirius could even say such a thing simply to make a point in an argument was one of the best signs he'd yet seen that Azkaban was losing its power over him. "Padfoot, you were twenty when you were arrested. Surely you'd had the opportunity at some point before then?"

"There was a war on. I was busy."

"You were busy," Remus repeated incredulously.

"Exactly."

"And were you 'busy' at Hogwarts, too?"

Sirius thought for a moment. "No, not so much, but all the boys were either stupid or straight, so it didn't much matter."

"Excuse me. All of the _what?_" Remus asked. "Since when are you gay?"

Sirius frowned at him. "Since always. I must have told you."

"Must have? Can you actually remember telling me?"

"I thought it was just another memory I'd lost to the--to Azkaban. You know I still can't remember most of fourth year? I was looking in my picture album, and it was like a play I was seeing for the first time. Well, why should this particular incident be any different?"

"No reason, really," Remus said. "Except that it never actually _happened_. You may have told James at some point, I don't know, but I'm quite certain that you never told me."

"Oh." There was a long pause. "It's not a...a problem, is it?"

Remus stared at Sirius, who seemed to be studying his fingernails intently, then cuffed him on the back of his head. Sirius yelped. "First of all, I couldn't care less if you'd been shagging Buckbeak for the past year, let alone this. And, secondly, it would be worse than hypocritical for a man who turns into a ravening beast once a month to cast stones at someone with an interest--as yet purely theoretical, I might add--in other blokes."

"'S not _that_ theoretical," Sirius protested. "I kissed Amos Diggory in sixth year."

"I thought you said all the boys at Hogwarts were either stupid or straight," Remus said.

"Yeah, well, Diggory was both. But I still liked kissing him."

Remus chuckled, and a moment later Sirius's barking laugh joined his.

* * *

Crouched at the head of the stairs, Fred and George rolled up their Extendable Ears with the ease of long practice. "That was a bit of a surprise," George whispered.

Fred nodded. "Yes, it was. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Naturally." George winked at him.

* * *

As it turned out, seducing Sirius was easier even than they'd thought. George had come up with a plan, of course, but he'd given in when Fred insisted that they first try a more..._direct_ approach.

The rest of the house was empty--Lupin out on Order business; their Mum taking Ron and Ginny for new robes, since they'd outgrown their old ones; everyone else at work--when they joined Sirius at the kitchen table. Sirius grunted in lieu of a proper greeting, which meant he wasn't yet on his third cup of tea.

"Good morning. You know, George and I were saying just the other day that Kingsley Shacklebolt's rather exceptionally fine. Think he might fancy trying it on with a couple of good-looking young blokes?"

Sirius, who'd been staring into his teacup, raised his head quickly.

Fred grinned at him.

"Shacklebolt's married, and his wife's pregnant with their second child. So, no," Sirius said finally.

"Shame, that," George said. "D'you think _you_ might?"

"_Me?_" Sirius asked.

They nodded.

He sniffed the contents of his teacup surreptitiously before setting it down on the table, gazing at each of them in turn. "Yeah, all right."

Fred smiled. "Good. Drink up the rest of your tea; you're going to need your strength." Sirius picked up his cup and drained it in one long swallow; Fred hoped that it wasn't _too_ hot. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Come on, then." He and George led the way up the stairs, pausing in the middle of the third floor corridor.

"Your room or ours?" George asked.

"Depends on whether or not you want a hippogriff voyeur, I suppose."

"Right," Fred said. "How about we work up to that one? No point in breaking out the owl before the feather duster's lost its charm, and all that."

Sirius let out a single bark of laughter as Fred tugged him into the room he shared with George.

They'd tidied a bit in preparation and opened the window a crack to let in air, despite the fact that it was a wet, miserable day. Still, the damp breeze that came in was warm and sweet. George had even had the forethought to spell the (unmade) bed to remain dry. The bedding smelled a little burnt as a result--it reminded Fred of unbuttered toast, and he wished that they'd made time for breakfast.

Sirius sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the two of them frankly. "So, tell me truly, what's all this about? Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes starting up a new adult-themed line, and you want to try your experimental potions and whatnot on me?"

"Not that that isn't a brilliant idea, but no," George said. He crossed over to Sirius and bent to kiss him softly but lingeringly on the lips. "This is just us...wanting you."

"Me and Kingsley Shacklebolt, you mean," Sirius said wryly.

Fred shook his head, moving to join them. "Nah, not so much. Kingsley's a bit...stiff, isn't he?"

"And not in the good way, either," George added.

"Shows what you know," Sirius snorted. "I could tell you stories of his years in Hogwarts--"

"But you won't," Fred interrupted. "At least, not while there're better things we might be doing." And he leaned forward to taste Sirius's mouth himself.

Sirius's lips were impossibly soft against his own chapped ones. Fred flicked his tongue across them, and they parted gently. Distantly, he heard George moan as he sucked Sirius's tongue into his mouth, sweet with the residue of sugared tea. He licked along it, tracing the taste.

A hand settled on his shoulder--George's--and Sirius made a strangled, wanting sound. Fred pulled back far enough to see that George was biting Sirius's neck, worrying at the skin beneath his teeth. Sirius's eyes had slid half-closed, and Fred kissed them gently. The eyelids were as rose petal-soft as Sirius's mouth; Fred brushed his closed lips along absurdly long eyelashes and shivered at the feel of it.

George's hand slid down his arm until it twined with Fred's, and he pulled their joined fingers to the waistband of Sirius's trousers. Together, they unbuttoned and unzipped, pushing aside fabric until Sirius's cock lay hot and hard in their grasp.

Sirius whimpered, and his hips jerked upwards into their hands, which would have felt fucking perfect but for the fact that it nearly pitched Fred off the bed.

"Hold up," he said once he'd regained his balance. "Can you scoot back a bit?" Without waiting for a response, he pushed lightly on Sirius's chest until he tipped back against the pillows, then stripped off his trousers and shirt with George's help. "Yeah, just like that."

The new position drew his attention even more to the lines of Sirius's long, lean body, ghostly pale but for the rosy, pebbled nipples and flushed cock. Fred leaned down to lick the arch of a sharp hipbone, feeling a jolt of pleasure at Sirius's shocked gasp.

"You keep doing that. I'll get the lotion," George said, and the mattress dipped as he got off the bed.

Fred nodded, his tongue flickering over sensitive skin with the movement. Sirius twitched.

There was the sound of things being shifted about in their workchest, and then George was back, holding a medium-sized bottle in his hand. They'd been telling the truth about Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes not developing an adult line, but one of the unguents they used as the base for a number of topical potions had proven to have...other and more interesting uses.

The bottle clinked faintly as George placed it on the bedside table, and he slid--naked; he'd clearly been busy while Fred had been absorbed in the taste and feel of Sirius under his mouth--into the bed. Sirius turned towards George like a plant greeting the sun, pulling him close with a pleased murmur.

Not to be left behind, Fred undressed quickly. Sirius and George were kissing, the glide of their tongues from mouth to mouth easily visible, and he watched them while he caressed Sirius's smooth chest, playing with the hard, little nipple under his hand. When he scraped it gently with his fingernail, Sirius arched upwards.

George seemed to have settled in for a long occupation--he'd slid his fingers into Sirius's hair, holding his face still for the kiss--so Fred shifted down the bed until his face was once again inches from Sirius's crotch. Close to, the scent of dark, musky curls and salt-slicked skin made his mouth water. He swiped his tongue across the head of Sirius's cock, savoring both the taste and the sound of Sirius's groan, muffled by George's mouth.

A glance upwards showed George and Sirius still trading kisses as though they'd never tire of it, although George had stopped cradling Sirius's face in his hands and was instead twisting both his nipples. Fred licked Sirius's cock with long, wet stripes, then took it into his mouth, suckling the head softly.

The slurps as he slid his mouth up and down had a quieter echo in the wet press of George and Sirius's lips. Just then, George tapped his shoulder, and Fred pulled away unwillingly to join him at the head of the bed.

"Grab the lotion," George said, nodding towards the nightstand. "No, wait first." He tipped Fred's face towards his and licked across his lips. Fred opened his mouth to George's tongue, letting him taste Sirius secondhand. When the kiss ended, Fred glanced down to see Sirius watching them with wide, grey eyes.

"Do the two of you...?" Sirius asked, staring at them in obvious fascination.

Fred shrugged. "Not much. Does it bother you?"

"Not at all."

"Good," George said. "Fred, the lotion."

Fred reached over and passed it to George, who uncorked the bottle and spread the thick cream onto his fingers. Fred replaced the bottle on the nightstand and joined Sirius in watching George fuck his own fingers. It only took a minute or so, and then George was settling over Sirius's narrow hips and sliding slowly down his cock. The two of them gasped at the same time, holding still for a long moment before George began rocking up and down.

Fred was so hard he ached, and the sight of Sirius's cock slipping in and out of his brother's body made his breath come short. Suddenly, waiting until Sirius and George had finished was out of the question. "Here," he said, straddling Sirius's face. "Can you just...oh!" Sirius had parted his lips, and Fred's balls dropped into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. "Yeah, just suck them like that. Don't worry too much about being careful--I'm not sensitive."

He reached behind to brace himself on the headboard with his left hand; with his right he took hold of his cock and started jerking himself to the rhythm of Sirius's and George's fucking. He caught his brother's eyes across the brief gulf between their bodies, and neither of them looked away. Every twitch, every moan one of them felt was mirrored a second later by the other.

Of the three of them, Fred came first, his thighs shaking with the effort not to collapse on top of Sirius and his cock spurting milky fluid over George's flushed skin. He slid carefully to the side, cuddling against Sirius, and watched as George increased his pace, his cock bouncing with each thrust, watched as George shuddered to orgasm, and then turned his face to watch Sirius's expression as he keened low in his throat and came.

George slipped off Sirius's softening cock and lay on his other side, slinging an arm across his chest, where it pressed warmly against Fred's.

"Oh my God," Sirius said, his voice shaky.

"That good, eh?" George asked lightly.

"Except for the part where one of you elbowed me in the stomach? Yeah."

Fred grinned. "That's all right. After all, we've the rest of the summer to practice."

* * *

"_Lumos_," Sirius said hoarsely, before he realized that he was awake. He squinted into the sudden light--made brighter by the reflection off the numerous gold ornaments strung up around the room--his wand pointed defensively at the far corner.

"Now _there's_ a greeting for you," George said. "How long do you think it would take us to learn that trick?"

"And what are the odds that we could use it to scare the piss out of Ron the next time he tries to wake us up?"

Sirius shook his head; the hand gripping his wand dropped to the coverlet. "What the devil are you two up to now?"

"Let's see. It's just past midnight, and we're in your bedroom...what do you _think_ we're up to?" Fred asked.

"We'd considered not coming," George said. "With how you were about Dad when we were still waiting to hear if he was okay, and everything. But then we decided it would be stupid to punish ourselves just because you're a right prat."

"Are you telling me that you're here for sex?" Sirius asked, faintly amazed. It had been four long months since the twins had left for Hogwarts; he hadn't imagined that they had the attention span to stay interested in anything that long, besides their pranking.

He watched as they rolled their eyes at one another. "Obviously," Fred said.

"Well, you needn't bother, if you can't even understand why I acted the way I did last night. I like and respect Arthur--he's a good man and a friend of mine--but Harry's my godson. _He's_ my responsibility, and that means it's my job to make sure he's safe and looked after when he's had nightmare visions from Voldemort, especially when there's nothing to be done but wait, and when _he's the one who saved your father in the first place!_

Sirius realized suddenly that he was raising his voice, and he took a deep, calming breath. "You just watch over your family, all right, and I'll watch over mine."

"Can we watch over _you_, too?"

Sirius looked at Fred sharply. The boy seemed startled at his own words, but he met Sirius's eyes without flinching. Sirius swallowed. "If you like. Yeah."

George placed a warm hand on his thigh. "I'm fairly certain that I'm speaking for both of us when I say that we _do_ like."

Tension drained from Sirius's muscles, leaving him oddly shaky. The twins stared at him silently as the moment drew out. Finally, he lifted the covers. "Come on, then. It's too cold for you to be running about in just your nightshirts."

* * *

_Sirius--_

_We don't yet know if Mum's told you of our rather precipitous departure from Hogwarts, but in case you hadn't heard: we're sprung!_

_Not that it needs much more justification when you know that the Umbridge bitch is in charge, but, honestly, school was a complete joke. Now we can really do something useful, or at least fun. Preferably both._

_We've settled above the Three Broomsticks. The room's a bit on the small side, but the bed's quite large and comfortable. There's also a private fireplace. If you can, try to get away this Thursday--Room 3. If you can't manage that, write back and let us know a good time for us to come to you (and with you, and on you, and in you, and...well, you get the picture). We're trying to avoid Mum's wrath as long as possible, so the timing issue may be a bit tricky._

Don't _tell anyone where we are!_

_Love,_   
_Fred and George_

_P.S. If you know of any way to disarm Howlers--or even to muffle them a bit; general silencing charms simply aren't effective enough--please write back ASAP. It's been less than a day since we left Hogwarts, and Mum's already sent us six of the things. The other guests are beginning to complain. Ta, and hoping to hear from you soon. F&amp;G_

* * *

"Fred! George!" Ron whispered urgently. They paused in their descent and looked up at the landing where Ron stood. His hands described a series of frantic circles to indicate that they should join him.

"What is it?" George asked in a normal tone.

Ron shook his head fiercely, and his hands moved faster. "Come here!"

Fred rolled his eyes, but he and George climbed the stairs anyway. "Yes?" he asked in the sweet voice that never failed to make Ron go into a rage.

Ron didn't even notice. "Hermione needs you."

"What for?"

"Oh, just come on and let her explain," and Ron led them to the far end of the shadowy corridor, where Hermione hovered by Remus, Bill, and Ron's bedrooms.

"Hallo. Care to tell us why Ron's acting like a constipated orangutan?" George asked, then neatly side-stepped to avoid Ron's fist.

Hermione gestured towards the right-hand doors. "He's _drunk!_" she hissed, casting a nervous eye towards the stairs.

"Who's drunk? Bill?!" Fred asked incredulously.

"Of course not. _Remus_ is."

A quick glance at George showed him looking as gobsmacked as Fred felt.

"And we simply can't let your mother know," Hermione continued. "You probably weren't paying attention when it was covered in class, but werewolf metabolism means that they can get frightfully drunk without passing out. He's utterly pickled."

"How much has he had?" George asked curiously.

"Close to half a bottle, last I checked."

"Of what, wine?"

"No, firewhiskey."

Fred blanched. "And he's not dead?"

Hermione shook her head impatiently. "I just _told_ you: there's no danger of that. But he's completely smashed, and he's not acting at all like himself."

"Still, what do you expect _us_ to do about it?" George asked.

"Keep him under control," Hermione said grimly, twisting the knob of the door and shoving them both inside before they could protest. The lock clicked behind them. Hermione's voice drifted through the keyhole: "And if you even think about apparating, I will Make. You. Regret. It."

Fred started and felt George do the same beside him. So much for their trusty escape route.

Just then Remus--slumped in the chair by the fireplace, with what looked like a much less than half-full bottle at his elbow--stirred himself from his silent daze to peer at them. "What are you doing in here?"

"Visiting you," Fred said.

"Well, go away. I'm not fit company."

"That's perfect," George said with exaggerated cheer. "These are your rooms, so you're actually the host. _We're_ the company, and both of us are quite fit, I assure you."

Remus looked from one twin to the other, obviously trying to follow the twists of logic in that statement with a very limited success.

"Offer us a drink?" Fred suggested.

"No," Remus said immediately.

"Want to keep it all for yourself, eh?"

"Yes," Remus nodded. "I mean...er...no. It's only that it would be...irresponsible. Subverting the professor/student paradigm. All that."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "You're not a professor anymore."

"Well, no, but I _was_." Remus said this in the tone of someone who'd delivered an irrefutable argument.

"And he did just use the phrase 'subverting the professor/student paradigm' despite being out his tree," George added unhelpfully. "If anything argues _once a professor, always a professor_, I think it's that."

Fred glared at his brother.

"Also, I'm being very careful not to discuss inappropriate topics with you," Remus said. "I think that ought to count, as well."

"What sort of inappropriate topics?" George asked.

"No, sorry, can't tell you."

"Well, can you at least tell us why you're getting sloshed at three-thirty in the afternoon?" Fred asked through gritted teeth.

Remus tilted his head to the side, considering that for a moment. "Sirius is dead," he said finally.

Even after two weeks, those words were enough to make Fred's heart clench painfully in his chest. "I know," he said when he could breathe again. "But all of us lost him, too, and somehow we're managing to get by without resorting to the bottle."

"None of the rest of you failed him."

"How do you mean?" George asked.

"I--oh, wait, I can't tell you that."

"Yes, you can," George promised him. "We're of age, remember? And we're not even students anymore, let alone _your_ students. You can tell us anything, now."

"I wouldn't sleep with him," Remus said in a rush.

"Did he want you to?" Fred asked blankly.

"I think it's possible. He told me, you know, that he hadn't before--with anyone, I mean, not just me--and I just ignored it. I think we even laughed about it a bit. And, really, what was he supposed to have done? Just come up to me one day and said, 'Oi, Moony, I don't want to die a virgin; how's about giving me a hand here?'" The scathing sarcasm in Remus's voice was the only thing keeping his last sentence from being a scarily accurate impersonation of Sirius.

George must have thought the same, because he shrugged and said, "Why not?"

"Why...?" Remus glanced up bemusedly from his contemplation of the firewhiskey bottle, then took another generous sip. "What d'you mean, 'Why not?'"

"That sounds like exactly the sort of thing Sirius would say, if he were trying to pull you. It's not as though the man was _shy_, or anything."

Fred nodded his agreement. "I'm fairly certain that Sirius was more than capable of propositioning you."

"Not if he didn't trust me," Remus said quietly.

"Oh, Christ!" Fred exclaimed, loudly enough to make Remus jump and slosh whiskey over the table. "Sorry," he added in a more normal tone. "_Really_, though."

"He was my best friend," Remus said, and it was anyone's guess whether he was answering Fred's outburst or beginning his own private monologue. "Harry and I, we were all he had left. And I couldn't even help him when he needed me."

George caught his eye right then, a question plain on his face, and Fred nodded. George took a breath. "Why do you care so much about this in particular?" he asked carefully. "Is it because it's what _you_ wanted, or because it's what you think Sirius wanted _from_ you?"

Remus shook his head. "It's only he lost so much--all of his childhood spent in _this house_, most of his adulthood in Azkaban. He never had a chance to fall in love or raise a family or g-grow old. Or even just to find a bit of pleasure and comfort in a shared bed. I might have at least given him..." Remus's voice cracked, and he turned away from them abruptly.

"It's okay," Fred said, placing an awkward hand on Remus's shoulder. "Well, not really, but the last part of it, at least. George and I were...seeing him."

"Since July of last year," George said.

Remus looked at them in surprise. "I didn't know that."

"Well, of course not. We were keeping it quiet. Mum would have had a fit, and if we'd told anybody else it would've gotten back to her sooner and later."

"Sirius might have told _me_, at least. But he didn't even hint at it."

Fred shrugged uncomfortably. "I think Sirius thought it was all a bit of a lark for George and me. That we weren't...well..._serious_ about him."

"We were, though," George said fiercely.

"We'd hoped he might move in with us once we have our shop set up," Fred said, nodding his agreement. "Business has been booming lately, you know. It might not be long now."

"We thought we could have a small flat over the shop, and maybe keep a spare room for if it ever became safe enough for Harry to stay there, too," George added.

"Not that any of that matters _now_," Fred said bitterly. "But at least he wasn't alone, this past year, even if it may have looked that way. That's something, isn't it?"

Remus nodded slowly. "Yes, I rather think it is." He placed the still-open firewhiskey bottle in Fred's hand. "Why don't you take this downstairs for me? I'll just...have a bit of a lie-down."

He looked almost sober, which Fred supposed was either due to the werewolf metabolism again or a sign that Remus was a surprisingly good actor, but George still asked, "You're not going to do anything that'll make Hermione hex us in our sleep, are you?"

"No." Remus's lips curved slightly into a wry smile. "I think I've more than filled my quota of foolish gestures for the day."

* * *

The waning moon and the streetlamps outside the Three Broomsticks cast their light through the open window and over Fred and George, where they lay curled together in their bed. Fred's eyes had slid shut, but his hands moved warmly on George's skin, the two of them alternating soothing strokes down each other's backs.

"Sirius would've liked our new jackets," George said, watching the moonlight gleam on dragonhide where they hung in the closet.

Fred nodded against his shoulder. "He'd've bought one himself. And boots, as well."

"I'll bet we could've talked him into modeling it for us one night. You can picture it, yeah? Those long, pale legs going up and up, and the jacket covering just the top of his bare arse."

"Mmm," Fred agreed. "And then he'd turn around, and you'd see his cock, standing straight up and already wet on the tip--"

"--and his nipples would be hard, too. He'd leave the jacket unzipped, and you could see the fabric brush against them, all pink and peaked up."

"We could each take one and suck on them 'til he was moaning and desperate."

"Yeah, and then we'd drop to our knees and lick up and down his cock, and then you could lick his balls while I sucked him off--"

"--until I needed the taste of him in my mouth, and then we'd switch positions."

Their hands had dropped to each other's cocks by then, tugging frantically.

"And he'd warn us before he came, so that I could get back up there and share it with you. It'd get all over our faces, too, even if we swallowed all we could, and I'd turn and lick it off your mouth and cheeks, and--"

Fred gasped out a breathy moan as he came.

"--and he'd kneel down on the floor with us, and kiss his come off my face, and then I'd watch as he slid his tongue into your mouth, and...and--" George's voice wavered as his cock pulsed in Fred's fingers, and then it was over.

Their hands lingered, warm and sticky, curled protectively over each other's softening cocks. Their breaths shuddered in the quiet night. There was a warm trickle against George's shoulder, but he only wrapped his free arm around Fred and pretended not to feel it, nor the wet sting of his own eyes.


End file.
